


Disaster

by context_please



Series: Winters of London [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Earthquakes, M/M, Reincarnation, Reunions, though technically only one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: So there he was, walking in to his boss’ day office - and he’d just said hello, when there was a sinister rumble.





	Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> The conclusion to the series and the part I like the most.

Merlin was practically whistling by the time he got to the office building. He’d been so happy over the past week, after finding Arthur and – embarrassingly – crying into his shoulder for a day, passing out for another, and spending the next five grinning like an idiot. He couldn’t help it – he was just so happy.

Suddenly, the world seemed more colourful, the people more open, and the city livelier. He wondered if it was like this before, and he hadn’t noticed, or if it was just him. The winter that usually sucked the life from him and made life unhappier couldn’t even _touch_ what he was feeling now. He was just _so damn happy_.

During that week, he’d hardly been able to let go of Arthur long enough to eat, and his other half had been amazing about it. In fact, he’d insisted himself that he move into Merlin’s flat, which was now so much fuller considering Gwen and Lancelot had moved in a month after reuniting at the club; that had been four months ago now. It didn’t really bother him. He’d bought it after his botched career as a Marine, and it had four bedrooms, anyway, so it didn’t matter in the least to him. In fact, it made him so much happier to have all of those people there after being parted from them for _so long_. Sometimes, when he saw Arthur or Lancelot or Gwen, he felt like crying – he wasn’t sure if it was overwhelming happiness, or the memory of his millennia-old pain. In the past week, Arthur had seen that, and he had let Merlin cry into his shoulder so many times already.

Today had been the first day Merlin could leave him, and it was only for an hour or two. His boss had called, been extremely understanding about it (even if he didn’t know most of it), and told him to take as much time off as he needed; that there’d always be a place at the _Dragon_ just for him. Merlin had called that morning, asking if there was anything he could do to help for the day: he wouldn’t be able to work that night. He’d asked Merlin to come by his day-job to pick up a few documents to look over – he knew Merlin was great with logic and figures – and bring them back next week.

So there he was, walking in to his boss’ day office - and he’d just said hello, when there was a sinister rumble. Instantly, he magic was on high alert, reaching out into his surroundings; into the metal and the concrete, assessing what had caused the tremor. The building materials were shivering, and he reached into the earth, feeling the quake, ready to burst with full force.

‘ _GET OUT!_ ’ he yelled, startling everyone in the office, causing them to look at him in panic. ‘ _The building’s coming down! GET OUT NOW!_ ’

The office burst into life; people scrambling and screaming in terror, desperately trying to reach the stairwell. The evacuation alarm had obviously been triggered – he’d done it with his magic – and the whole building was in instant panic. He ushered his boss out the office, sending him towards the stairs.

There were a few people who were stuck at their stations, unable to get out because of the crowds, and he helped forge a path for them; guiding those who were too panicked to think properly.

He’d been through this kind of thing before; he felt no fear for himself, but for the hundreds of other people in the building. They did not deserve to die horrible deaths, and he needed to get them out _now_.

The floor was almost empty by now, only the last few people struggling to get to the stairwell. He almost sighed in relief, sagging as he realized they were safe. The building shook again, this time more violently, and soon he was stumbling, fighting to stay upright as the quake took hold.

It was then that he heard the ominous sound of cracking.

He looked up, just in time to see a network of splits creep across the ceiling, the groaning sound of concrete and metal giving way.

Then, in a rush, it all came toward him.

He barely had time to throw up a shield, and as it was, that shield was so haphazardly constructed that it caved almost immediately, only slightly softening the impact of a metal beam on his leg and ribs. Concrete fell heavily around him, crushing his right arm and nearly his head, but he forced himself to fight back the fear, shock and panic of being crushed by an _entire story_ of a skyscraper. He could feel the terror and pain pushing at his chest, but he forced them back.

It was then that he heard the pained groan off to his right, and he could have sworn he recognized –

He shook off the thought. He had to get that person out of there.

‘Hello?’ he called tentatively. ‘Can you speak?’

‘Holy _Mother of God_ , that hurts!’ came the muffled reply. That voice was definitely familiar…

‘I know it hurts,’ he called back, voice soft with empathy, ‘but I need you to stay awake for me, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

He sighed in relief. ‘Would it help if we talked? What’s your name?’

‘Gwaine,’ was the reply.

The panic hit him like a ton of bricks. Gwaine – Gwaine was trapped in a collapsed building. He had to get him out: if he died, Merlin could never forgive himself. He couldn’t – he just couldn’t –

The tightness at the back of his throat made it hard to speak. ‘Gwaine?’ his voice was shaking. ‘Gwaine, it’s Merlin.’

There was a moment of silence, and he wished he could see Gwaine’s face – just _see him_.

‘Merlin, mate. I’ve missed you.’ He could imagine the soft smile that would cross his face.

It was those three words that coaxed the tears out. He couldn’t sob, but he could feel the wetness on his face, and he smiled tremulously to himself. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

‘I bet you did,’ he replied, the sadness soaking into his voice.

A moment of silence was all he needed to compose himself. ‘We have to get you out of here. Are you close to the stairwell?’

Gwaine thought about it for a moment. ‘Yeah, reckon I’m pretty close. Think you can get us out?’

‘I don’t know about me, but I can definitely get you out.’

‘ _Merlin_ –‘ he could hear the beginnings of a lecture in that tone.

‘Gwaine, listen. If you get out, you can call for help; get them to dig me out. I can’t help us both.’ _And I’m more likely to heal_ , he didn’t say. ‘Please, trust me.’

‘I trust you, mate. What can I do?’

‘I’m going to help you with my magic, follow you, and move the things around you. The level below this one is clear, but only use the stairwell. Got it?’

‘Got it.’

‘Alright; let’s do this.’ Reaching out with his magic, he felt Gwaine’s life force right by the stairwell; that portion of the floor had held up well. Gwaine was stuck under a couple of concrete blocks, but there hadn’t been any crushing, so it would be safe to move him. Thank _God_ for small miracles. He felt around the concrete block, pushing them this way and that, making a small path for his friend to squeeze through. He could feel it the instant Gwaine got to the safe stairwell, and he took a moment to rest. ‘Merlin, stay awake! I promise I’ll be back!’

‘Go, Gwaine!’ he shouted back, feeling his life-force retreat slowly. The floor was empty now; the other few people that had been there during the collapse had died instantly.

He sagged, his energy reserves exhausted and his muscles going slack. He could feel the pain rushing back, coalescing in his chest. He could _feel_ the bruises forming on his neck, the blood dripping down his ribs where the metal dug into his chest; the ache in his neck and the searing pain in his arm.

It rose up until it was choking him, and he knew he’d been right; he didn’t have the energy to save the both of them; it was quickly sapping out with his blood, and he was losing the ability to see straight.

His vision blurred, then doubled, and then he was closing his eyes, letting himself slip into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

He slowly faded into consciousness to the sound of voices.

‘Alright lads, lift him carefully… that’s it.’

He could feel himself being lifted, the movement jostling his side, and a pained groan escaped him, gradually turning into a high-pitched whimper as the movement continued. It lessened suddenly, and Merlin turned over a bit, coughing into his good palm, the blood on his hand shocking even him. He must have been on a two-man stretcher, because a voice sounded above his head; ‘That’s not good. Alright, mate, we’ve got you and we’re sending you down now. You’re okay. You’re out.’

He could feel the sweat on his forehead, and he let out an involuntary sob, jarring his ribs further. The groan-whimper followed.

‘Shhhh,’ the voice hushed. ‘You’re going to be alright. Don’t panic.’

Merlin had no idea how long the movement of the stretcher went on, or how long he’d been staring at the ceiling of the stairwell, but it felt like forever. And the whole time, the man above him kept murmuring encouragements and babbling nonsense, trying to comfort him, keep him awake.

Then, suddenly, they burst out into sunlight, and Merlin screwed his eyes shut, whimpering in pain as he flinched back. Everything _hurt_.

There were suddenly people all around him, all blurring together and touching him in places that hurt, and he was crying out involuntarily, struggling to breathe, but there was suddenly a mask on his face, and before he knew it, he was unconscious.

 

 

 

It felt like an eternity before his eyes opened again.

His body was stiff and it was hard to move his fingers, let alone his arms, and it felt as if his neck was about to snap when he turned his head. The bleary ceiling was slowly piecing itself together, becoming a patchwork of dappled tiles. It took him another moment to realize that there was an uncomfortable tube sticking out of his nose, and he could feel the oxygen being forcefully pumped in and out of his lungs.

He slowly turned his head to the side, seeking out the source of warmth on his palm. He had pieced together that he was in a hospital by now – he had been in them _far too many times_ over the years to recognize their horrid ceilings. And like every other room he’d been in, this one had a long strip of windows – if he squinted really hard, he could see movement behind the drawn curtains – and the padded chairs lined up beneath it.

He wasn’t expecting, however, the sheer amount of people in the room. He’d gotten so used to waking up alone in hospital rooms (and then crying himself to sleep again) over the thousands of years that he hadn’t really thought about how this would be different. Sure enough, there were Gwen and Lance, curled together on the armless chairs, and Gwaine’s hospital bed had been wheeled into the room. The man himself was sleeping soundly, rolled over onto his side, facing Merlin. He had a wicked graze-bruise on his face, and his arm was bandaged heavily, but other than that, he looked just fine. In fact, he was probably dreaming happily about alcohol.

Finally, Merlin’s neck loosened up enough to look down his arm.

There, hair mussed and ruined, in an awkward position and so adorable in his puppy-ness was Arthur. He was twisted awkwardly to get as close to Merlin’s bedside as possible, his head lying on Merlin’s upturned palm and breath from his nose tickling his hand. It was so simple, but so comforting. And, as always, he was beautiful, with the weak moonlight bouncing off of his hair and his face child-like in sleep.

Before he knew it, Merlin had lifted his other hand with no effort at all, bringing it over his body to swipe Arthur’s fringe back from his forehead and palm his jaw, running his thumb along the blonde’s cheek.

His movement was a lot freer now, and so were his thoughts. It must have been his magic kicking in. It was always so much faster at healing him and better at keeping him alive, and now it was lending him its strength, as it always had.

He felt a smile cross his face unbidden, and he let it soften his features a little, ready as Arthur stirred against his hands. He could feel the quickening of breath, the push into his palm, and then his stunning blue eyes were open. They just stared at each other for a moment, a slow, watery smile spreading onto Arthur’s features. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but he couldn’t have been more beautiful. As he watched, they filled again, and the tears slipped down his cheeks. Merlin used his thumb to gently swipe them away.

Arthur leaned into the touch, eyes lidding slightly, but not closing. He knew Merlin wanted to see his eyes; to know they were _truly_ seeing each other. ‘ _Merlin_ ,’ he whispered reverently, the action private and intimate despite the other people in the room.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but they both knew he wouldn’t be able to find his voice just yet, so he settled on mouthing _sorry_.

Arthur gave him another sad smile. ‘Don’t be _sorry_ , Merlin. You saved Gwaine’s life.’

There was silence for a moment, and Arthur spoke again. ‘You saved all of those people, Merlin. You saved them from being killed. I am so, _so_ proud of you.’ His voice broke, and more tears made silent tracks down his salt-stained skin.

Merlin was sad too, sad and proud and strangely happy.

And when Arthur turned his face to Merlin’s palm and his breath tickled over the skin, and he whispered, ‘I love you, Merlin,’ pressing a kiss to the heel of his hand, it was so much more intimate than just a kiss. It was feeling, and heartbreak, and worry and pain, happiness, relief and a sharp sense of deep fear.

His lips brushed over Merlin’s skin again, this time his voice was quieter. ‘Sleep. I’ll watch over you, like I always have.’

And from there, it was easy to close his eyes.

 

 

The next time his eyes opened, the sunlight was bright and hit his eyes unfiltered. It must have been lunch time, by the angle of that light, and he’d be damned if he was missing out on food.

Then his mind caught up to his stomach, and he realized that he was thinking clearly, his brain having no difficulty putting thoughts together. His magic had done its work and started healing him already, but from the ache in his body (almost like his insides were being set _on fire_ ), he knew that it would be a long time before he was healthy again. Heart catching up to his wakefulness, it beat faster, his lungs drawing a deep breath to support the renewed blood flow.

Neck no longer stiff as hell, he glanced around the room. Unlike last night, it was completely empty, the chairs askew and jackets and blankets everywhere, but there was no one to be seen. Even Gwaine had left – although his bed was still there – and Merlin felt the pangs of loneliness return again. He must have been asleep too long: they’d given up hope and abandoned him. His chest burned, stomach doing flips, and his eyes were welling up before he even realized. Just the thought – just the thought of being abandoned like all those other times, _hurt_.

Breathing hurt too much, so he just let the tears slip down his cheeks silently, keeping the sounds of his suffering deep inside. When he shut his eyes and let the tidal wave of grief overtake him, there was the noise of voices outside the door, and it opened, letting more light into the room. They must have seen him, with his eyes closed, so they hushed and entered it quietly, just the shuffling of feet and chairs.

‘Merlin?’ Arthur’s concerned voice sounded.

A hand was on his cheek, wiping his tears away tenderly. ‘I know you’re awake,’ he whispered. ‘Why are you crying?’

Merlin opened his eyes, the light hitting them again and making his brain hurt a bit. Arthur was hovering above him, concern knitting his brow, and the warlock mouthed _I was alone, and it hurts_.

Arthur’s glorious blue eyes filled with guilt, and Merlin felt silly for being concerned. ‘I’m sorry. We just went out to get some coffee; I wasn’t even gone for ten minutes. Don’t worry, I won’t leave again.’

This time, Merlin made the effort to clear his throat, draw in a breath and use his voice. ‘Arthur, you’re here now.’ It was dry and hoarse, deep and soft with sleep and little use, but the blonde’s eyes softened at the words.

‘I am,’ he said.

 

 

The next time he woke up, the room was empty again.

The sky outside was orange, and he twisted his head to look out of the window properly. He stared out into the horizon, his surroundings glowing as if they’d been set on fire by the sun itself. It was weak enough that his eyes didn’t hurt to open, and his brain felt okay, so he must have been doing well. The pressure on his ribs was lighter this time, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been overwhelmed with emotion before, and this time he was calmer. Yeah, that was probably it.

As he turned his head and stayed there, he became aware of a strange feeling on his face. He reached up with a hand to feel coarse gauze and a thick tube going right into his nose. Strange. He hadn’t noticed it either of the times he’d woken up before, but, to be fair, he’d kind of been _very_ out of it, and normally he wasn’t the most observant person anyway…

It was then that he noticed the figure standing by the window, hair lit glowing gold with the fading sun. The droop of his shoulders gave away just how tired he really was, how worried he was. There was also something else… it was that same droop he’d had when the weight of being King Arthur was too much.

Merlin sucked in a breath through the tube – it really was helping, but only a little bit – and spoke, barely a murmur, ‘Whatcha doing, Mr Gloomy?’

Arthur turned almost immediately and gave him a brilliant smile. ‘I was just watching the sunset. It reminded me of the good old days…’

Merlin gave a tired smile. ‘Yeah, me too.’

He came and sat on a chair next to the bed, reaching out to stroke gentle hands through the warlock’s hair. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked gently.

‘Like the questing beast ate my insides and then set fire to them, and then put them back in. But other than that, I’m okay. I can’t feel my legs, but I think they’ve just gone numb.’ He flashed Arthur a grin.

It was not returned. Instead, his King stared into his eyes, and Arthur’s were a brilliant sparkling blue like stars in a daylight sky. Merlin could almost ignore the red ringing the white of his eyes and the dark smudges underneath them, the dullness of his usually luminous golden hair. Just by taking in his haggard features, Merlin knew that he’d stayed since that afternoon he’d woken up and panicked to find Arthur gone.

Suddenly the pain coalescing in his ribs didn’t matter, and the tube feeding air into his lungs didn’t help anymore, because all he felt was his heart melting for the man he’d waited for almost his whole (admittedly extremely long) life. He reached out, ignoring the tubes and monitors trying to keep him in the bed, and touched his fingers to his King’s cheekbones. The skin there was as soft and smooth as he remembered, and he felt a small smile – just a curve of his lips, really – creep onto his face. His heart softened as if it had been covered in a layer of ice that had escaped his notice, and he said, ‘Hey,’ as the man dropped his head down.

Arthur looked up again, eyes glistening with tears this time, and he looked sort of frustrated (typical Arthur – frustrated over his own bloody feelings) and immeasurably sad. He swallowed and struggled to speak beyond an emotionally swollen throat. ‘I…’ he finally began. ‘I thought you’d… I nearly _lost_ you,’ he whispered brokenly, tears welling up and spilling onto his cheeks. Merlin wiped them away with his thumb, and Arthur looked surprised that they’d even been there.

With what little strength he actually had, Merlin pulled Arthur into him, burying his face in the smooth skin of his neck as Arthur sobbed gently into his shoulder, crushing them together as best he could with his injuries. There was a desperate moment of relief, and then their holds became looser, until they were just embracing each other in a comfortable snuggle.

Merlin pressed his lips to his King’s jaw, lips brushing his skin as he murmured, ‘I’m never leaving, Arthur. I’ll never leave you alone.’

It seemed like mere moments until Arthur let him go, but he knew it had been a good twenty minutes they’d held each other. He kept hold of Merlin’s hand, though, as if he couldn’t bear not touching him, and they stayed close.

When he looked over, Arthur’s face was streaked with salt and water, and his eyes were redder, but he looked slightly happier now that he’d been reassured Merlin was alive. He exhaled haltingly and gave him a shaky smile.

Merlin replied with a blinding grin, letting out a little laugh. ‘Oh, Arthur, if you think you’ll get rid of me that easily, you are sorely mistaken.’

Arthur’s smile widened and he raised an eyebrow.

‘The Eyebrow isn’t going to work on me, you clotpole. You know, I’ve been in way more hospitals than you’ve ever seen. If you think it was _your_ fault I got in trouble, you were very wrong, _my lord_. Contrary to your opinion, I can find trouble _plenty_ fine on my own, it’s just that I don’t have annoying _prats_ to find extra bonus trouble for me on the –‘

‘ _Mer_ lin!’

As was the way, Merlin completely ignored his King and continued the inane chatter just like he used to all of the time.

This time, when the look of mild annoyance faded, the smile that graced Arthur’s lips was genuine: the best thing Merlin had seen all year.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the series and thanks for reading!


End file.
